3. Spirit Serpent Posture

The blood-invigorating medicinal bath was indeed effective.

He rested for a day.

Qi Yu returned to Spirit Serpent Martial Hall early the next morning.

When Song Qinghong saw him arrive as promised, he led him to an inner room. The words "Skill Transmission Chamber" were written above the door.

As for the outer "Training Grounds," they included the training courtyard, practice grounds, and martial arena. Even this early, more than two hundred disciples were already training their fists and feet in the light snow, tempering their sinews and bones.

The Training Grounds were broad and rugged. The courtyard had a compacted yellow-earth floor, with iron rods, stone locks, stone stools, and other basic equipment scattered about.

There were wooden-post formations and water vats in the corners, while the practice grounds had cowhide sandbags, blood-invigorating medicinal wine, and more...

The Skill Transmission Chamber was only opened to disciples when Song Qinghong was imparting his skills.

It was considerably more solemn here.

There were carved windows and dark-brown wooden floors. Wisps of green smoke curled from the offering table at the very center. An ancient painting hung on the rear wall, depicting a long snake crouching in the grass—seemingly still yet ready to move, seemingly moving yet still, poised as though startled and about to pounce.

"We won't be hitting sandbags today."

Song Qinghong was concise. "Young Master Qi presumably wants to strengthen his body as well. Then we'll begin with the postural method. Once you learn its essentials, you can practice on your own at home even if you stop coming here."

Qi Yu asked, "What if it's for fighting to the death?"

Song Qinghong sized him up. Only after seeing his resolute expression did he say, "That also begins with the postural method.

The Ninth Rank Leather Armor Realm consists of only two steps. The first is to invigorate the blood and nourish the body. Once the blood is active, it can be put to use. If you succeed, your qi and blood can reach roughly twice that of an ordinary healthy young man, and illnesses will rarely trouble you in the future.

"The second step is to grind the skin into armor. This step consumes blood, medicinal plasters, and hard practice. You must never rush for success. Otherwise, you'll only exhaust your blood to nourish your strength without nourishing your body with qi and blood. Hidden injuries will easily develop, your lifespan may end up shorter than an ordinary person's, and you might even be left disabled."

Qi Yu's gaze swept toward the tea table not far away.

"Let's dispense with the apprentice's rites for now," Song Qinghong said. "But when imparting an art, I never hold anything back. I only hope you'll practice properly."

With that, he began explaining the essentials of the Spirit Serpent Posture.

When squatting, the five fingers had to be like a chicken's claws gripping the ground; when lying prone, the soles had to be spread loosely like a duck's or goose's feet.

He explained how to focus the spirit and settle the mind, drawing oneself into stillness before relaxing through visualization. If conditions permitted, one could go to an open field, climb high, and gaze into the distance; seeing mountains and observing the sea would naturally quiet the mind.

He explained that when practicing the postural method, countless thoughts would come flooding in and be difficult to dispel. At such times, one could instead examine oneself and repeatedly adjust whatever felt uncomfortable. One could also let the thoughts come and go naturally, accepting those that arrived and retaining none that departed. If they truly could not be restrained, one could visualize one's heart entering a furnace, with stray thoughts like dead leaves that burned the moment they came from any direction.

Qi Yu followed his instructions and assumed a half-horse stance. Song Qinghong reached out from time to time to correct his posture.

After less than half an incense stick had burned, Qi Yu felt his calves and thighs trembling faintly. His waist and abdomen ached unbearably, and he could barely maintain the stance.

Seeing this, Song Qinghong waved a hand. "Rest for a while first."

After a brief rest, he had Qi Yu stand again. They repeated this three times. Each session lasted only half an incense stick, yet Qi Yu's entire body already ached as though filled with leaden water, while his sinews and bones felt as if they had been scorched by raging flames.

He gritted his teeth and prepared to stand a fourth time...

Song Qinghong glanced at him and shook his head. "That's enough for today. Training cannot be forced, especially during the blood-invigoration stage. If you overexert yourself, you'll injure your sinews and bones instead."

Qi Yu wiped the sweat from his brow and asked, "Uncle Song, how do others fare the first time they stand in the posture?"

"People's natural constitutions are all different," Song Qinghong said. "Some are naturally suited to it. The moment they enter the posture, they gain a 'sense of the stance,' standing as firmly as a pine without fatigue or weariness. Others have vigorous qi and blood and can stand for two full incense sticks on their first day, completing five rounds in succession."

His voice was completely unsparing, as though he were dispelling some sudden, fanciful delusion from this pampered young master, making him see reality and understand that martial arts were for strengthening the body, not fighting to the death. Otherwise, forcing himself to train would only bring injury and illness and invite disaster.

Those skilled at swimming drowned in the water. Those who could not swim never entered the water, so naturally they were unlikely to drown.

By the same logic, people who did not practice martial arts would not recklessly fight others. But if they trained only halfway and still failed to recognize the vastness of heaven and earth, that was when true disaster struck.

Qi Yu asked again, "What about Song Xue?"

"On her first day, she stood for one and a half incense sticks and completed four rounds."

A trace of unwillingness surfaced on Qi Yu's face.

Seeing that he still intended to stand in the posture again, Song Qinghong said, "Practicing martial arts is like boiling medicine. If the heat hasn't reached the proper point, you'll only add bitterness and char."

He pointed to the leather mat at the side. "Go lie down. I'll have someone apply a hot compress to you today. Take more medicinal packs when you leave. If you practice at home, apply a hot compress as soon as you finish. Don't waste the packs—only discard them after five uses."

Then he called out loudly, "Song Xue, bring two hot-compress medicinal bags!"

Before long, an heroic young woman in martial attire rushed in from outside, carrying a linen medicinal bag in each hand. White steam swirled around them, carrying a faint medicinal fragrance.

She glanced at Qi Yu, who was lying prone not far away, and hesitated.

"You two were close when you were children. Why have you grown so distant?" Song Qinghong asked.

"It's not as though I'm the one who wanted to become distant," Song Xue said with a soft snort.

Even so, she walked behind Qi Yu, pressed two fingers together like an iron awl, and abruptly jabbed them into the sinews behind his leg.

A sharp pain exploded!

Her fingertips slowly slid downward along the sinew, the pain surging in waves, layer upon layer.

Song Xue tilted her head as she watched him. She had expected to hear this pampered Young Master Qi scream.

But there was nothing...

Qi Yu forcibly swallowed his groan.

Yet moments later, a thread of heat rose from the numb ache where she had pressed, as though blocked qi and blood had suddenly been blasted open.

Only then did Song Xue say in disappointment, "Stretch a little first, then apply the hot compress. The effect will be better."

She flipped her wrists, and the two medicinal bags settled firmly against Qi Yu's waist and legs. The scorching heat seeped through the fabric into his flesh, making the young man's spine shudder.

Half an hour later.

Qi Yu left.

Song Qinghong looked toward the figure disappearing through the falling snow in the distance and said, "He doesn't seem like what you described yesterday."

"Usually I stretch with the female disciples," Song Xue said. "How was I supposed to know a father would ask me to stretch a man?"

A flicker of recollection passed through Song Qinghong's eyes. He seemed about to speak, then stopped.

Suddenly, his gaze stilled and fixed directly on his daughter.

Song Xue also raised her eyes to meet his.

The room fell silent for a time, save for the soft popping of the charcoal fire.

Father and daughter stared at each other for a moment, then suddenly blinked at the same time.

Song Qinghong was the first to laugh, his laughter hearty.

Song Xue's eyes curved after him like new moons. "Dad, don't tell me you thought I was going to say—since Third Master Qi showed you the kindness of settling you here and saving your life, if anyone's marrying him, you can do it yourself. I don't like him anyway?"

Song Qinghong roared with laughter, then gradually sobered. His expression turned solemn, and he let out a soft sigh. "In this vast Spirit Serpent Martial Hall, all these years, only your Eldest Brother has entered the Seventh Rank Penetrating Force Realm. But he left and never returned. Now the hall has no one to carry on its legacy...

"You've practiced martial arts since childhood, and your talent is excellent. But your father doesn't want you trapped in a life of flashing blades and shadows, burdened with heavy responsibilities. The Qi Family is powerful. If you can form a marriage alliance, it will be an escape route for you and for the martial hall."

A martial hall could only be considered to have someone to carry on its legacy once it possessed a martial artist in the Seventh Rank Penetrating Force Realm.

And even among those in the Seventh Rank Penetrating Force Realm, there were differences in strength. Only a powerful Seventh Rank Penetrating Force disciple could support Spirit Serpent Martial Hall.

But now, there was no such person.

The previous Seventh Rank disciple... had disappeared after an incident during an expedition. Many years had passed without the slightest news. Other than dying without a body, there was no other possibility.

Song Qinghong marrying his daughter into the Qi Family was partly for the sake of their relationship and partly for the martial hall's future.

On his way back to the residence, Qi Yu heard a commotion from far away.

The carriage slowed slightly. He glanced over and saw two groups shoving one another. One side was in utter chaos, shouting and cursing, saying, "This is our Black Tiger Gang's territory. If you want to distribute Peace Umbrellas, go somewhere else."

The other side consisted of several Umbrella Sect believers standing in neat formation with devout expressions. They held up large black umbrellas in the snow and repeatedly chanted things like, "When heavy snow falls, raise a black umbrella and preserve peace."

Qi Yu leaned forward slightly and gave an order. "Take a detour."

The wheels rumbled on for another half a li.

They passed a teahouse.

The carriage curtain was not raised, and the person upstairs did not look at the passing carriage.

On the second floor of the teahouse, a lattice window stood half open. A figure in brilliant red sat alone inside.

Master Chen savored his tea, gently turning the cup as a faint, eerie light flickered in his eyes.